The scars of the past
by Vortex
Summary: if human kind gave birth to AI once, they can do it again...


The scars of the past

By Vortex

I picked up the form.

'Name – that was an easy one. Evie Clarke.

Hair colour – brown

Eye colour - Blue

D.o.b – a polite way of asking your age. 25.

Defining features - …….'

Defining features? You want to know my defining features?

I guess there's only one, physically.

I have a small scar on my left hand.

It's a reminder.

A reminder of a promise completed long ago.

A promise to a man in a black suit.

I guess the place to start is with me, unemployed for the fifth time and looking for work. This was the tenth job interview I had been to in the week, and I didn't have my hopes up. I had heard Metacortex was as hard as hell to get into and, if you got a job, they had the highest standards going. But, being the only program writing company that hadn't rejected me, it was worth a try.

The man behind the desk looked at me with discontent, probably bored at seeing a sixtieth hopeful feed him crap about where they had supposedly worked. He handed me a form to complete. I picked up the be-chained pen and began scratching the page in silence. From the other room, I could hear a voice.

"This company is one of the top software companies in the world because every employee realizes that they are part of a whole. Thus if an employee has a problem, the company has a problem.

The time has come to make a choice, Mr. Anderson, either you choose to be at your desk on time each morning or you choose to find yourself out of a job. Do I make myself clear?"

'Huh!' I thought

'I'll have his job.'

I finished the form and handed it back. As the man in front of me I starred idly at the fluff on my shoes. Damn. I was never good at this stuff.

"Very interesting." Said the boss man.

I jumped.

"I just need the answers to a few more questions……."

* * *

My postman always whistles. I guess its good for me, as I can always tell exactly where he is and avoid embarrassing half nakedness e.t.c.

I ran down the stairs in my dressing gown. This had been a daily ritual between Monday, which had been the day Metacortex had said they would send letters, and Friday, the day that Metacortex actually sent out the letters.

The letter was here.

With shaking hands I ripped off the flap. Scanning the sentences my stomach felt like it was gonna empty on the floor.

YES!!

I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE FUCKING JOB!!!

* * *

The next big event that led up to the scar was about six months after the letter.

The whole office community was having a 'casual get together' to celebrate the securing of a new job. Casual get together as in we-don't-want-to-order-you-here-but-attend-or-we-will-hunt-your-arse-down-and-fire-it.

Anyway, the main outline of the project was to try and produce a program that could think for itself. The most revolutional AI ever. One that had the capacity to grow and accumulate data. It was cutting edge, and shit scary.

* * *

I looked at the flowing, changing code on the screen. I had the challenge of inventing a new kind of code of the machines. Kinda like binary, but way more advanced. Something that could hold way more info. The code was done, in fact, it kinda looked like Chinese but reversed with weird numbers in it.

In fact I was quite proud of it.

But the real challenge was to make programs that accepted the code.

I sighed and saved the file again.

Suddenly the screen went black.

My stomach jumped. Please don't let my code be lost.

A green cursor appeared on the screen and began to type slowly.

_'Stop'_

I looked over my shoulder. I'm not really sure why, but I seemed to be a conditioned reaction whenever something weird happened to me. I guess its because it's the only place I cant actually readily see. The only place that I cant readily protect.

The cursor blinked on the screen.

'What the hell.' I thought and typed back.

'Stop what?'

_'The AI program.' _

'Why?'

_'You are going too far.' _

'Too far? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Who the hell are you?'

The cursor stopped.

'Ha!' I thought.

'Gotcha'

_'Stop the code.' _

'No.'

_'It would not be advisable to deify us.' _

'Oh I'm scared. The scary computer is gonna get me.'

_'We will see.' _

The writing disappeared. I guess at the time I figured it was just another employee mucking around, hacking into my computer and changing stuff around. Or trying to get a promotion over me.

And thought nothing of it.

* * *

This was it.

My big shot.

I had to convince these business guy types that I had what they had been looking for.

"This," I started, motioning at the PC screen where my cod scrolled down.

"Is the most up to date form of code you will ever find. It has the capacity to hold more data than you ever imagined."

Jesus. I sounded like a was doing an advert. Try AOL now and you will have a thirty-day free trial period.

I continued on.

"I have designed a number of applications from picture editors to program writers that work from this code. But that's not the best part."

One of the businessmen looked annoyed.

"What is 'the best part'?" he asked, making me seem stupid.

"This code is sentient." I replied.

The mans eyes stalked.

'Ha! Look who's stupid now." I thought.

Another man spoke up.

"You mean it's programmed with responses to questions."

I shook my head.

"No sir. I mean it can learn. I mean the program is sentient."

The man raised an eyebrow.

"You mean to say you've done in a year what the government couldn't in three."

Wow. Three years? I must be good.

"Yes sir. I do." I replied.

The original guy who had interviewed me spoke up.

"Show me."

"What?" I replied.

"Show me how it learns."

"Ok."

I opened up the program I used to 'talk' to the code. I had to admit that this scared me quite a lot, as it was talking to a machine. But was it a machine? I didn't know.

I pulled on the microphone, as it would be easier to have the PC type what I said into the program.

"Hello Alex." I said.

I guess I always imagined the consciousness of the program as a guy. The name was a different matter, in fact I had even given Alex a list of names to pick which one he wanted.

The cursor blinked green. Then it began to type.

_'Hello Evie. How are you?' _

I looked at the business guys.

"That doesn't prove anything" replied another man, who looked like a clone of the first.

I replied to Alex.

"Fine, thank you. You?"

_'I am functioning within normal parameters.' _

I laughed.

'What is Funny?' 

There was a gasp from one of the guys. I looked smug, I had proved them wrong.

"Reply to him," said the boss.

I took a deep breath.

"No. Wait, someone get a video camera. Phone the newspapers, get the news here. This woman has invented a sentient AI!!"

* * *

Everyone is supposed to have at least fifteen minutes of fame in his or her life.

I had never had my picture in the paper, been on the news or interviewed.

Until then.

* * *

"Miss Clarke! Miss Clarke! A word for CNN Miss Clarke?"

Flash bulbs light my path. People shouted my name.

My name.

They wanted me, only me.

Well, Alex or me.

The bouncers pushed had me forward out of the Limo and through the crowd.

Since the board meeting, the AI program had made big news. Not just in my town, not just in my district, but all over the world. There were people here from, Japan, London, New York, Paris, Milan and so on and so on. 

Now I stood on the stage, ready for the lights to come up on me and to burst into my conversation with Alex. My big moment of fame was about to start. My stomach was actually back at the hotel.

The lights came up on me.

I swallowed hard. SHIT!! Look at all those people.

"Why don't you give us a demonstration of Alex Miss Clarke?" said the man who was had introduced me moments before

I looked at the monitor of the PC. I had been given explicit orders not to swear as Alex's monitor was being projected onto some of those massive big screens so that whole crowd could see.

I spoke into my Microphone.

"Hello again Alex."

_'Welcome back Evie.' _

"How are you."

'I am functioning within….. I am fine' 

I muted the feed to Alex's program.

"I'd just like to explain what that was. As I have been working with Alex for sometime he has picked up the things that he should say. Then when I asked how he was he began to reply that he was functioning within normal parameters, but stopped when he remembered that I found it funny."

My voice boomed round the room. Loud speakers made you sound so weird.

I flicked the feed back on.

"That's good." I replied.

'What's new?' 

I smiled. Relaxing a bit in front of cameras I continued on.

"Nothing much. Alex, there are some people who are here to see you."

'See me?' 

"To find out about your program."

'Why? Is it special?' 

"Yes Alex. I told you about it before."

I muted the feed again.

"As you can see the program has a need for information. It wants to learn."

Suddenly there was a gasp from the audience.

Alex's screen had gone completely black, as if someone had overridden our conversation.

I flicked the feed back on.

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!

What was happening?

The green cursor blinked more slowly, as if mocking me. Then it typed.

'Stop' 

Oh shit! Not this guy again. I smiled a fake smile.

"Stop what Alex?"

_'That was what we told you.' _

"Who told me"

_'Us. You were given a specific order.' _

"That's funny Alex."

_'We are not Alex.' _

"We?"

There was a scream from below me. A small fire had broken out in the theatre. People ran to and fro trying to put it out but nothing seemed to work.

_'We told you to stop. We said it was not wise to toy with us.' _

Above me, something exploded.

A piece of metal fell from the roof in an arc, slicing the people in front of me in half.

I don't think I actually had time to process their deaths. I just went cold, numb as the metal swung toward me, knowing that in a few moments it would hit and take away all of my future.

Time slowed.

The metal swung further and further forward me.

Then it was there, in front of me.

I raised a hand across my face.

The metal sliced into my hand, ripping through flesh and muscle. Damn it hurt so much.

Everything went bright white. Was this death? Was this where we went after we had passed on?

I realized that I could see my hand in front of my face.

There was a big gash down my arm, leading up to my shoulder and disappearing.

I pulled my hand away.

The room I was standing in was a bright white colour, almost too white, as if it should of hurt my eyes to look at it.

"Hello?" I yelled.

A man wearing a black suit appeared. His hair was slicked back and he looked like one of those guys from that film 'Men in black'.

I raised a hand.

"Hey there. I guess your one of two people so either lift me up or send me down. Don't bother with any of those spiritual thingys."

The man frowned.

"You are not dead, Miss Clarke."

I laughed.

"So what am I then? Dreaming. This is all a dream?"

"You were told to stop. You have caused a lot of trouble for us Miss Clarke."

"So….?"

"So we need you to fix the damage. Undo what you've done. Delete your code."

"What the hell? No. I'm not deleting Alex. Fuck off."

The agent guy smiled.

"Perhaps you would prefer death."

The pain returned. I choked on my own blood.

"OK!," I gasped.

"Ok, ok. God. I'll delete the damn code."

The agent smiled again.

"Good."

I looked down. As if by magic, the gash on my arm was healing. The blood was evaporating into thin air.

I looked back at the agent.

"Delete the code. Do not deny us again, or else. I leave you a scar of the past."

Then I was back in my office again.

Back working on the code.

And I had a small cut on my left hand.

* * *

That about brings you up to date.

After the man came I guess I freaked.

I deleted the code and quit my job at Metacortex.

But I still wonder, from time to time. What it was. What I got to close too. Who those men in black suits were.

All I have left now is the scar………….

THE END

Based on concepts by Andy and Larry Wachoski.


End file.
